


Forlorn and Reunited

by skatingonthinice



Category: Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Basta is still a shithead dont get me wrong, Gen, Loneliness, Poor Dustfinger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatingonthinice/pseuds/skatingonthinice
Summary: Some time has passed since the horrible evening when Mo read Basta, Capricorn and Dustfinger into our world.Two souls have a hard time forgetting what used to be.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Forlorn and Reunited

Bright moonlight shone in through the open window in Basta's shack and made the tattered curtains dance. The air that swept in was cool, although not enough to give him chills. It was still to early in the season for that.

Some stone throws away were the sound of talk between the night guards, obscured by the distance. He could tell they were young boys, though, by the shrill sound of their voices. There was always company in the village. So why did he feel so alone?

When he closed his eyes he pictured the Inkworld. That was bad, he knew and so he never talked about it to the others. Capricorn didn't approve of it and Basta needed his approval like a plant need sunlight to grow.

Even so, the visions of his home persisted. Memories of it haunted him every night. He saw the trees in the forest he grew up, remembered how tall the trees in the Inkworld were and how they had loomed over him like giants. He saw the markets where he and Cockerell had used to sneak off to when they still were apprentices. The bright colours on fabric loaded on heavy wagons, the heavy scent of spices and cooking food, the sweet smell from freshly made pasteries on display. Scribes walking around with glassmen poking out of their pockets. Women in pretty gowns who looked away when he looked at them. It all made his heart sting.

He rolled over again, landing on his back. For a moment he just stared up at the ceiling. The pictures faded, but the ache remained. What a stupid heart he had! His fingernails dug into the bed sheet, doing little to ease the tension building up inside him. Something icky was making a home inside of him, something he feared and loathed in equal parts. It was rising within, inching its way to his throat, tightening its grip on him. His eyes begun to sting.

In a fit he lunched out and hit his pillow so hard his fist tore a hole and hit the pathehic excuse for a mattress he was lying on. There. That took away some of it. But then it came back, whispering sad words he didn't want to hear. _You are alone here. They don't want you around. You are a stranger to them, useless in this land you know nothing about. What is knowlegde of fairies to guns, you moron? What use have you. What-_

He bolted up cursing. His cheeks reddened as he forcefully stroked the tears away. He got up, found his clothes neatly lain onto a chair, the only furniture he had except for the bed.

They slipped onto him like a second hide. He damned an occurring thought about his old clothes, the ones he had worn when he and his master had gotten whisked away. This outfit was squarer cut, oddly flat and totally black except for the white shirt he wore under the jacket. _All the better,_ he convinced himself. 

Stepping outside he let the night air caress him. Taking one step then and then another he wandered off, not sure to where or if that was even the point. As he walked he took long and deep breathes, trying to savour the quiet houses around and the empty streets. Somehow the loneliness made it worse.

 _What difference would it make if they were all awake?_ A voice insisted. _It's not like you know them anyways. Most of them Capricorn found in this world. You are alone, Basta. A loner._

«Shut up, shut up, shut up,» he muttered. From his pocket he found a small blade, hardly more than a letter opener- lethal if you knew where to stab it. He begun fiddling with it, stroking it like it was an amulet for good luck. The metal was dull, had not been worth much in the old world and was definitely not worth much here, yet he clung to it like it could ease the pain.

He only let go of it when his sweaty hands sent it flying away. The knife made a clattering sound as it hit the street. He looked at the nearby houses. Thankfully no one came to check what the noise had been.

With shaking hands he bent down to pick it up again and just as he did that he caught the glimpse of something moving down the street. A person. Whoever it was did not wear a black jacket.

Basta quickly retrieved the knife and hid it within his sleeve.

The person approached. A shabby white coat. A gaunt face, fearful even at a distance. The red hair. The little demon sitting on his shoulder.

Basta felt his heart beat a little faster. His grip on the knife tightened and on his face a smile grew- a vicious grin, half made of actual joy (a twised one) and disgust. His place in this world suddenly seemed firm, looking at the vagabond in front of him. The new world had not fared well with the fire- eater. That pleased Basta.

«Did you miss me?» he asked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if that ending wasn't particularly nice:P Stay safe!


End file.
